Date: Mon, 07 Mar 2011 09:48:39 -0600
From: michaelpete@hushmail.com
Subject: Malcolm 10
Be advised that in the following one will find graphic sexual depiction
between minors and minors and adults. The story is fiction but based on
real characters, events, places and situations. There is no relationship
between the names used and that of any real person.
Send comments to michaelpete@hushmail.com.
Michael Peterson
MALCOLM
CHAPTER 11 SIXTH GRADE 1951-2
My grandparents were waiting for me at the hotel when I arrived on
the Camp McFarlane bus late Saturday afternoon, September first, nineteen
fifty-one.
"So I can come to your house again?" I asked excitedly.
"I don't know," answered my grandfather with a smile, "but, since
there was no one else to take you this weekend and you father wanted to go
away for a few days, he had no choice but us."
Freddy was waiting for me at their house. We embraced in the
doorway then were nudged into the living room and left alone. I hugged him
and kissed his cheek repeatedly.
"Stop that, Maacum, befo' they sees you."
"I don't care."
Freddy laughed and insisted on a blow by blow of how many times I'd
been fucked.
"How come you think I was fucked?"
"'Cause I know you. So tell me."
"A few times."
"Shit, then it musta been a whole lot."
I told him instead about how fancy McFarlane was compared to the
YMCA camp and how I'd improved athletically.
"I can do thirty push ups," I boasted.
"No you can't. Lemme see."
I dropped to the rug and started with Freddy counting and
laughing. He stopped laughing at fifteen. His voice became more respectful
at twenty, downright reverent at twenty-five. Numbers twenty-nine and
thirty were done with pure will power because my arms were exhausted. I
collapsed on the floor, sweating profusely.
"Damn, Maacum. I can only do `bout fifteen. Lemme see yo' muscles."
I rolled over and sat up. I couldn't get my sleeve up far enough so
unbuttoned and took off my shirt. I flexed my biceps. Freddy squeezed them.
"Damn, Maacum, they done turned you inta Superman!"
Freddy decided then and there to equal or surpass me in every
exercise. He dropped to the floor. With a lot of grunting and his black
face turning a very dark red, he accomplished seventeen pushups. I did
situps beside him, leaving him at twenty-eight to do my fifty. We looked
around for a pull up bar and found the shower curtain rod in the third
floor bathroom. It was sturdy enough but just above our heads as we stood
on the side of the tub. Freddy lifted his feet but could only do
three. Tired from the pushups, I could do but thirteen. We did leg raises,
twenty-four for me, seven for him, and started over with pushups.
"In two weeks, I'm gonna be bettah'n you in all of `em."
We were called to dinner. Grandmother had fixed chicken according
to one of Aunt Martha's recipes. We even had collard greens and corn
bread. Freddy told my grandparents about the thirty pushups. I showed off
my new biceps and bragged about the rest of my physical accomplishments. My
grandparents were suitably impressed.
In our third floor bedroom, Freddy pumped me for every detail about
the camp, especially the sexual events. The only thing I downplayed was my
relationship with Georgie. As promised, I didn´t mention fucking Georgie
that last afternoon. Freddy sensed something was being left out.
"That all you an' this Georgie done?"
"Just what I said."
"You's lyin', Maacum."
I was against the wall. After Freddy, Georgie was the closest
friend I'd ever had. I couldn't betray his trust. I pulled out a nickel.
"Call it."
"Aw, Maacum, you know you did sumthin' mo' with that boy."
"Heads or tails."
"Shit. Tails.
I flipped the nickel. It fell to the floor and bounced under the
bed. I fell to the floor ahead of Freddy and spotted it. He pushed in
beside me. I lay my hand flat on top of the coin and pulled it out. It was
heads.
"Mmmmph." Freddy shook his head.
I'd lucked out.
"I still . . ."
"Not fair!"
"Okay. So how many dicks you have up yo' ass this summer?"
The conversation didn't go on much longer. Freddy was far too
turned on. I gave him the relief he needed. He gave me the loving I
craved. By morning, we'd both reached orgiastic heaven four times.
We had to pull the covers to our necks when my grandmother came in
to awaken us in the morning. Fortunately, our pajamas were in the dresser,
not out where she could have seen we weren't wearing them.
Tuesday afternoon, my grandfather sat me down to discuss my father.
"I know you're never going to stop wanting to see Freddy, and you
know I support that, but you can make things easier for yourself and all of
us if you just pretend to listen to your father. Don't argue or get angry
about anything he says. If he asks you to do something, just do it. You
gain nothing by getting angry. Remember last January. None of that had to
happen."
I protested briefly but knew my grandfather was right. Getting
angry always cost me. I promised to control myself. Considering the deep
hatred I had for the man, that would require some means of extracting
myself from situations before they got out of hand, unless, of course, I
could avoid them altogether. That was worth thinking about.
I was back with my parents Tuesday evening. My mother gave me a
hug. I returned it though confused. I couldn't remember the last time she'd
done that. My father was in the living room reading the newspaper.
She wanted to hear all about my McFarlane experience.
"I got good at baseball."
"Really, dear. And what else?"
I picked up her enthusiasm. We talked for at least twenty minutes,
the longest we had ever conversed. I showed her my new biceps and harder
tummy. She touched both and expressed awe.
"Go on upstairs and wash up for dinner. And, Malcolm, I love you."
I almost jumped on her, embracing her as powerfully as I'd ever
hugged Freddy. "I love you too." There were tears in my eyes.
I rushed upstairs trying to figure out what had happened, how my
distant mother all of the sudden was so loving. Could it have been the
influence of my grandparents? Perhaps she finally realized how wrong my
father had been all these years. Whatever the reason, it was a wonderful
change. Would she now cooperate in allowing me to be with Freddy?
The bubbly talk continued at dinner. What worried me was the
occasional smirk on my father's face. He obviously wasn't enthused about
our happy conversation.
His only comment at the table was, "Let's get to the lawn tomorrow,
son. It's been growing for a month."
School opened the next day. Mowing the lawn after my first day in
sixth grade wasn't what I wanted to do. I bowed my head and bit my lip.
Mother said, "It will be good exercise, keep your new muscles
strong."
I nodded and forced myself to eat.
My class lost two students and picked up three new ones. Ronnie
Stevens, who I thought might have been like me, didn´t return. The new boys
were very ordinary. One, a small kid who despite his size had a changing
voice, knew Glenn Harrison and stuck with him all day.
Paul Simpson had grown over the summer and lost some of his fat but
not his big mouth. Most looked pretty much the same as last I'd seen
them. I looked forward to gym class, this year on Thursdays, to show off my
new athletic prowess.
Our gym teacher, Mr. O'Donnell, "in order to get off some of that
summer vacation fat", led us on a run around half the campus, easily half a
mile, leaving most straggling or collapsed somewhere behind in the grass. I
proudly stayed close behind him the entire way. Tommy Atkins and two others
kept up but were gasping for air when we got back to the field in front of
our building.
"Well, Malcolm, you've been working out?" inquired our teacher.
"Yes, sir," I answered with a glance at Tommy Atkins then Martin
O'Malley who was just arriving.
We stretched, touched our toes then got to pushups. I was the only
one still doing them after eighteen. I forced thirty.
"Shit, Malcolm," whispered Tommy Atkins, "where'd you learn to do
that?"
"At Camp McFarlane."
Pat O'Reilly said, "That's for rich kids. Your old man rich?"
"No, he just wanted to get rid of me for the summer."
"I wish my old man would get rid of me there."
Pat, Tommy, Martin and the other athletes were all impressed with
my new skills. Mr. O'Donnell pulled out some footballs. I knew my newfound
status was about to be downgraded dramatically.
My throwing was short and off the mark. I only caught two of a
dozen or so throws. I was put on the line to block during a short
scrimmage. After two successful blocks, the boys across from me merely
dodged around me. Strength and agility are not always partners.
No one said anything, not a thing. I was again out of the
loop. Worse, no one was tossing baseball cards probably due to the time of
year.
After school, Freddy arrived behind the barn as I was cranking up
the lawn mower. My mother had let me off first so wouldn't be home for a
while. The maid was in the kitchen so was able to see me from the middle of
the room though not from in front of the sink where she probably was.
I told him to open the small door by pig sty, enter then let me in
the main door.
I looked up at the house but couldn't see the maid meaning she
couldn't see me. Freddy opened the door. I darted inside and pulled it shut
behind me.
I told Freddy about the order to mow the lawn.
"Then we gotta be fast," he said.
"You said I was always thinking about sex. What about you?"
He pushed me toward the stairs and up to the second floor. He
wanted to try fucking me sideways as I told him Georgie had done.
After a few short thrusts, he said, "This is too hard. Let's do it
our way."
I lay on my stomach and he punched away, rolling us on our side as
he climaxed so he could jerk me off.
"I gotta keep my father happy with my work so he won't be bothering
me so much. We better wait until Saturday around eleven for you to come
back."
I wanted to tell him about my mother's new attitude but had already
lost twenty minutes on the lawn.
Saturday, we were less rushed. Freddy wanted to do exercises first.
"Why? We'll just be tired."
"So's you can see I'm catchin' up ta ya'll."
He was. He'd increased his numbers in all four exercises but was
still way behind me. I knew I'd have to work out every day to maintain my
bragging rights.
Lovemaking was enhanced by the sweat that covered us. Freddy's
whole body slid up and down me as he fucked.
I told Freddy about how my mother was being nice to me.
"You think she gonna let us be together when yo' fatha ain'
aroun'?"
"I'm afraid to ask her but maybe I oughta. Whatta you think?"
"All's she can say is no, o' yes."
I asked her Sunday morning after Mass as she was fixing breakfast.
She sat at the kitchen table. "Knowing you two, I'm sure you're
getting together somehow but I don't want to know anything about it. All I
can say, dear, is that you shouldn't let anybody see you two together,
especially Janet. I'm not going to say any more than that."
Janet was our maid. I hugged her and said, "Thank you, mom." She
hugged me back. I believe it was the first time I ever called her mom.
A few hours after breakfast, I'd raked up all the cut grass and
tossed it into the pigsty. Freddy showed up at one thirty, but my father
was fixing the back porch stairs. Freddy saw him and went back home.
By avoiding my father, doing what he told me without comment, and
making sure the trash was out and the empty cans brought back in on
schedule, my work load gradually diminished. On days when my mother was
home and there were no chores, Freddy and I would go to the stream as in
days gone by. On the afternoons when mother went somewhere, Freddy and I
went into the barn. I'd always show my face for Janet the maid so she
wouldn't report that I'd gone off somewhere. Mother never asked where I
was.
At school, matters were less positive. Paul Simpson took to calling
me queer baits. Tommy Atkins and Martin O'Malley gave me some hope when
they told him a number of times to cut it out. Unfortunately, that didn't
translate into contact with me. I generally sat with Glenn Harrison, the
new little kid with the changing voice whose name was Francis Xavier
Meyers, and a couple of other social ne'er do wells.
Francis, a slightly above average student with a roguish oval face
and squinty eyes, was funny in an underhanded way. He hated the nuns and
gave each a nickname. Our teacher, Sister Mary Bernice, an older nun who
knew the material but not how to explain it, he called `Sister Mary What I
Mean To Say' for her constant use of that phrase. Our principal was `Sister
Bouncing Veil' for the way she was always trying to adjust her veil with a
downward shake of her head. He called Paul Simpson `Simplemouth'. My
favorite was his nickname for Victor Cibelli, `Victor Longdong'. I found it
interesting he'd notice.
At our first swimming class on a Monday, I immediately noticed the
big lump in Francis' slightly undersized swimming trunks. He was several
inches shorter than me, shorter still than the tall, undeveloped and
phallicly unendowed Glenn, but apparently was entering puberty. There were
even scraggly dark hairs on the calves of his stubby legs. His arms were
short too but looked strong. I wondered why he didn't do better at gym.
After our third Monday swim class, Sister Bernice didn't supervise
us as we dressed so I wandered down the aisle naked slowly putting on my
undershirt. Only a few doors were closed. Tommy Atkins took off his suit in
front of Pat O'Riley's locker. I knew he was already twelve but no frontal
development had taken place yet. His body was a banquet of suckable
parts. He didn't seem to notice my eyes caressing him until he turned and
smiled at me. I blushed and turned my gaze elsewhere, immediately
regretting it. When I looked back, he was stepping into his cubicle. Was he
interested?
My attention was diverted behind me when I heard Francis call my
name.
"Looking for a friend?" he asked seductively with a broad grin.
He had on his undershirt but nothing else. His cock looked enormous
on his small body. There was pubic hair all around its base. He saw where I
was looking. When I approached, he said quietly, "big, isn't it."
He followed me into my cubicle. "Wanna touch it?"
"Francis, get outta here," I said though not meaning a word.
He stepped in close. "Go ahead. Touch it."
I did. It was as thick as Harry's and Michael's, and, in seconds,
just as long. Francis pulled my cubicle door closed behind him and latched
it. He whispered, "Suck me."
I began to kneel in front of him but stopped myself. "We don't have
time."
"Just a little." He pushed down on my shoulders.
I knelt in front of him. He held his cock out with one hand and
pulled my head to it with the other. I opened and took it in to the back of
my mouth. It was a perfect fit. I sucked and ran my tongue all over his
shaft. He pushed and pulled my head. I went back and forth, cock head to
pubic hairs. I heard him breathing hard through his nose. He gripped my
head by the ears and fucked my mouth hard and fast.
Twice he said, "Oh, mama."
I ran my hands over the gentle curve of his buns. I felt the
expansion, the hardening. He was fast. He lifted up on his toes and fired
off a series of shots of boy sperm into the back of my mouth. It tasted
moderately sweet like Frankie Stilling's.
He panted, "Thanks, Malcolm. It's been three months. Don't worry. I
won't say anything. Just promise we can do this again."
I was still savoring his cock and the juice it had just
delivered. I nodded okay.
He pulled out. "Gimme a towel. I gotta get back to my locker."
I handed him mine. He opened the door and walked out like nothing
had happened. I sat on the bench, swishing his cum around in my mouth,
yearning to do Francis again.
My towel came flying over the top of the wall. I sat starting to
worry that someone may have seen him come out my cubicle door and guessed
what had gone on. If Tommy Atkins or Victor Cibelli had seen it and wanted
some of the same, that was fine. But what if big mouth Paul had noticed? I
mustn't allow it at the pool again. I re-latched the door and jerked off.
At lunch, Francis didn't act in any way different toward me. I sat
beside him on the wall to eat. He offered me half of his banana. I gave him
one of my large cookies. What I really wanted, well, you know.
Tuesday morning at recess, I took him to the jerk off hideout
behind the school. It was occupied. We were invited not to enter by some
adolescent voices.
I led him around and up the hill to the back of the grotto. The
bushes had been trimmed.
We'd hardly spoken a word. He probably assumed another blow job. I
wanted to get fucked though was somewhat concerned, based on the previous
day's fast fruition, that it would be over before I could have much
enjoyment.
"Let's go to the boys' room," suggested Francis. "I know a way we
can do it there. We just gotta be quiet."
We ran up the hill, trotted down the stairs, walked across the
plaza, into the building and down the stairs to the basement boys' room for
older boys, which had officially become ours when we entered sixth
grade. Two seventh graders were leaving. There was no one inside. He
hustled me into a toilet stall and closed and latched the door.
He whispered, "You wanna suck or get fucked?" as he opened his
pants. "I got some crème if you wanna fuck."
That took me by surprise. Words rolled around my tongue but didn't
come out coherently.
He made the decision and started undoing my belt. I stood there and
watched him. Once my pants were down to my thighs, he pulled a small round
tin out of his pocket, pried it open and spread a semi-transparent grease
over the head and shaft of his cock. It didn't smell like Vaseline.
"Quick, sit on it and I'll keep your feet up so nobody can see
there's two of us in here."
He turned me around as he sat on the toilet seat then pulled me
back toward him. He slid forward and poked his cock between my cheeks.
"Sit on it."
I sat back. The head slipped between my ass cheeks. He found the
hole with his thumb, exactly as Harry and Michael always did, and pulled me
down. Entry was fast and complete. My rectum received him with an
embrace. My prostate radiated happiness. I felt like he was halfway up to
my lungs.
He yanked me back as he slid up on the seat and pulled my knees up,
wrapping his arms around my legs.
"That okay?" he asked in a whisper.
"Mmm hmm."
For a while, he arched gently into me, pulling out just enough to
run his cock head back and forth over my sweet spot.
"Can I come to your house one day?" he asked.
"Mmm hmm."
Some kids came in. I recognized the voices as two of my
classmates. They were talking about Paul Simpson and a remark he made about
a fat girl in the other school. Paul wasn't making any friends with his big
mouth.
They left. Francis, who hadn't stopped pumping into me, upped the
tempo, once again breathing heavily through his nose. He had already taken
much longer than the day before. I felt like I was floating on his
cock. With each thrust he tugged on my legs, rocking me back and forth, his
penis pulling against my rectum making my perineum glow with pleasure. His
legs flexed straight out then pulled back. His faced pressed into my
back. My cock was ready to burst.
His breathing came in nasal gasps. His arms pulled me tighter. He
went, `Mmmmmphita', and pulsed strongly inside me.
With a strain in his voice, he asked, `Want me to jerk you off?'
`Uh huh, quick. I dropped my knees, my legs resting on top of
his. He masturbated me rapidly, pumping in short jerks as he did. I came in
seconds.
If anyone had come in at that point, our feet and pants on top of
one another just inside the stall door would have been a dead giveaway. We
were lucky.
I pulled my legs back up. We sat there quietly for several minutes
until Francis' cock softened and fell out of me. Francis handed me a wad of
toilet paper and snapped off another for himself. I wiggled my ass around
enjoying the thought of boy cum slushing about inside.
As we pulled our pants up, the bell rang. I knew some boys would
run in at the last minute and stepped outside the stall and into the next
one. At least half a dozen pairs of feet ran in.
I invited Francis for a walk at lunch.
"You wanna do it again, so soon?"
"No, just talk." I wanted to know where he'd done this
before. Monday, he had said it had been three months since his last
time. He said he knew how to do it in a toilet stall and obviously did. I
was overwhelmed with curiosity.
Eating as we walked across the long parklike grounds behind the
school, Francis told me what I wanted to know. "Three months ago? There was
a kid like you in fourth grade in my other school. We did it in the
janitor's closet. He worked at night.'
"What do you mean, a kid like me?"
"Aw, c'mon, Malcolm. You know. And when I saw you looking all over
at that kid Tommy, well . . ."
What I didn't understand and wanted desperately to know was why
some kids seemed to know and others didn't. Not even Freddy had given me a
satisfactory answer to that.
"Did you fuck the other boy too?"
"Sure."
"Wait a minute, if you had that janitor's closet, how come you did
it in the bathroom too?"
"That was a different kid. I met him in a movie theater. He did it
with men too. I had to pay him fifty cents. The men gave him a dollar."
"Where was that?"
He named a theater in a working class section of town far from
us. Francis lived a few miles from me in a far nicer section of the city
than that of the theater.
"Why'd you go there? That's really far from your house."
"This guy I knew used to go over there for boys."
"You mean a man?"
"Yeh. He's a friend of my uncle and used to take us kids places
sometimes. But he had some kinda problem, probably because of him and
boys. Haven't seen him since June. Too bad, he'd a liked you."
"So there's boys in that movie theater for sex?" I wanted to know
more about the boys, not big old hairy men.
"A couple but there's more out on the boulevard. You pick them up,
give `em money for the movie and they go in. Then you go in and go up to
the balcony. Then they find you and you go to the bathroom. Hardly anybody
goes in there so it's easy."
I was stiff as a board. "You go there a lot?"
"Not since Bart left. I was sure glad to meet you."
"So why don't you go to the theater?"
"I'm not allowed very far away from the house unless I get
permission. They gotta know where I am. They'd let me go to your house."
I immediately saw complications with that unless it was on a
Sunday. Thanks in part to my mother, I hoped to be with Freddy most
days. Sundays, my father was generally home at least until late afternoon
when he sometimes went out for dinner with my mother. Mother had promised
to let me know when that was going to occur. I wondered if she had any
inkling what Freddy and I did sexually.
That afternoon after a full exercise session, we again exploited
the sweat all over us. Freddy knew I'd been screwed. I was amazed.
"You got somethin' greasy all over yo' asshole, dummy. You gonna
get caught one a these days an' yo' fatha gonna throw yo' ass off'n the
roof up theah."
I told him about Francis and everything he'd told me about the boys
on the boulevard and the movie theater.
"An' now you wanna go theah and git fucked some mo."
"I dunno. I think it's mostly men doing it but I don't want to do
it if it's when I can be with you."
Freddy smiled at me and said, "I know."
He fucked me again, masturbating me slowly the entire time.
I told mother that night about Francis and asked if he could come
to the house on Sundays. She promised to ask my father. The answer didn't
come until Friday afternoon when mother picked me up along with the four
other kids in our car pool. I rushed out to catch Francis on the school bus
and tell him the good news. His mother was going to drop him off after
church if I got permission.
There was a condition with my father's permission. We were not to
go off the property.
Saturday, my mother stayed home all day. The moment my father went
off to his club, I raced down to the back of the barn where Freddy was
already climbing into the pig sty door and pulled him out. We spent three
hours at the stream, exercising, exploring, looking for small animals,
chasing water bugs and talking about building a new tree house. Sex didn't
come up.
My father came home and found me raking leaves from under the hedge
in the front of the house, something he hadn't ordered. He stood by his car
watching me for a few moments then went inside without a word. It was part
of a new strategy to regulate my own time. I knew what he wanted done and
when it was needed. If I could stay on top of things, then perhaps he
wouldn't be ordering me to do chores when I had other plans.
Francis' mother arrived Sunday morning at ten thirty. We were still
eating breakfast. Mother invited her in and offered the two of the sticky
buns and juice. Francis and I went to my room while our mothers chatted in
the living room.
"I gotta do some work today in the yard. Wanna help?"
He agreed though unenthusiastically. We cleaned leaves out from the
hedges around the house.
When we finished, I asked my mother permission for us to go to the
candy store on the way to my school. I promised to be back in less than
half an hour. Permission was granted.
We ran down the back yard, down the steps and just far enough down
the hill to be out of sight of the living room picture window. We reversed
direction and walked quickly, tight against the base of the hill at the
bottom of our property, to the tall bushes between our land and the
next. From there, we rushed up behind them to the back of the barn, down
into the pig sty and into the barn through the small door.
Francis was impressed when I showed him how we faked the door's
lock and nails. I took him upstairs and dug out the sleeping bag and the
roll of toilet paper I figured we'd need for cleanup.
"Let's get naked and do it right," he suggested.
We slid into the warmth of the sleeping bag. I had him fuck me from
the front. After a few thrusts, he pulled out and said, "It`s better if you
lie on your stomach."
He poked away slowly for a while then rolled us on our sides and
fucked me a few minutes more. Finally, he rolled onto his back with me on
top of him. With his short arms wrapped around my stomach, he pulled back
then plunged hard into me, bouncing off the floor and grunting with each
thrust. The angle into me was perfect. His cock was stretching and rubbing
everywhere I wanted it to. Masturbation wasn't going to be necessary. I
came. He said `uuuuuuu' and `aaahhh' and fired off. I was still pulsing
when he started.
When my throbbing stopped, I sat up and turned sideways to him,
flush over his crotch. There was no way his cock could come out. His eyes
were closed. I caressed his strong chest and tummy.
"I don't think I can do it again real soon," he said.
I was disappointed but knew that once kids' balls grew, they didn't
recover as fast as Freddy and I. We figured to be the same in a year or
two.
I moved my ass around on him. I could barely feel his cock
inside. It had gone soft.
"Want me to jerk you off," he offered.
I was still plenty hard. He got up on his elbows, leaned to one
side and went to work. I pumped into his hand as he masturbated me, hoping
to resuscitate his penis inside my rectum. It worked enough that I felt him
inside me, poking back and forth as I moved my hips.
"You keep that up and maybe I can cum again."
I kept it up. He was doing a great job. I began to bloat. I
came. He felt the throbbing and let me go, falling back onto the sleeping
bag.
"Don't stop." He nudged my rear with his hand. I was moving up and
down by flexing my ass muscles and moving my hips up and down.
"Quick, lie back on me and roll onto you stomach."
I lay back. He pumped into me a few times then urged me over. Once
on top of me he began thrusting hard and fast. His hands gripped my arms
then my shoulders then back to my hips. He made a series of increasingly
louder moaning sounds then `mmmmmmhhh' and shot a second load into my
rectum. He went limp on top of me and gasped for breath.
"Whew, Malcolm. That's, that's the first time in a year I could do
it twice in a row. You really are good. Wow."
I'd have stayed like that for a good while but knew our half hour
was over. We cleaned up quickly, stashed the sleeping bag and rushed back
to the bottom of the concrete stairs into our property. We walked slowly up
the yard and into the kitchen where we both drank a glass of water to hide
the fact that we hadn't eaten any candy.
Things went fairly well through the rest of nineteen
fifty-one. Freddy and I continued to work out, adding exercises of our own
like walking around on tip toes and doing pushups from behind. He caught up
and passed me in sit ups and leg raises but I managed to stay slightly
ahead in push ups and pull ups.
My eleventh birthday was on a Friday.
Mother's original plan called for a small family party on Friday
with my grandparents and possibly some other relatives then a real birthday
party for kids on Saturday. I was to invite all my classmates. After some
brief enthusiasm, I told her I'd rather not. To have a birthday party
without Freddy just seemed terribly wrong.
She suggested a compromise. She and my grandparents would take
Freddy and me someplace nice Saturday at noon while my father was at his
club. Then I could have a party with my classmates afterward. I thought
about it for a full day. It was an opportunity to have the likes of Tommy
Atkins, Martin O'Malley and Victor Cibelli to my house. With that huge yard
and the whole first floor of the house, we could have quite a good
time. But, in the end, the thought of any celebration with all those kids
but not Freddy was simply unbearable. Freddy was the center of my
life. There could be little side shows but the main event, the center ring
of my existence, was Freddy Jackson.
Mother had asked me what I wanted as a gift. It gave me an idea but
not how to make it work.
`I wanna spend the weekend with Freddy.'
`Oh, dear, you know that won't be possible.'
That night I wracked my brain trying to think what excuse would
work to free up an entire weekend. An idea struck me. It was nine o'clock,
a bit late but not too late. I sneaked to the kitchen with my little
address book and called Delaware. The operator sounded suspicious about a
little kid making a long distance call but she put me through. A woman
answered.
"Is Georgie there?" I asked.
"It's nine o'clock, of course he is. Who's this?"
"Tell him it's Malcolm from camp."
"Good grief, the kid from his cabin?"
"Yes."
"You're all he talks about. Wait a minute."
Moments later, Georgie, out of breath, answered, "Malcolm, shit,
Malcolm. Is that you?"
"Hi Georgie!"
We gurgled over each other for a few minutes then he told me, "I
called you twice and some man said you weren't there one time and then you
weren't allowed to take calls and not to call back. Was that your father?"
"Probably."
Georgie wanted me to come visit him.
"That's sort of why I'm calling." I told him of my idea to fake an
out of town visit and stay with Freddy.
"You didn't tell him, did you?" He was talking about me screwing
him.
"No. I didn't. Now listen." I wanted him to convince his mother to
say, if anyone called, that I was visiting him but we were out somewhere so
I couldn't come to the phone.
"I don't know. I'll ask her. She knows you have a black friend and
your father, you know. She thinks your father's a creep. Can you call me
back in fifteen minutes."
I said I'd try but would call him early in the morning if I
couldn't.
"I leave at a quarter to seven for school so you gotta call before
then."
I sat in the kitchen watching the clock and listening for my
father. After fifteen minutes, hearing nothing, I called back.
The operator that time just took our phone number and dialed
Georgie. He answered. Mother says okay but you gotta tell us when."
"It's for my birthday on November ninth and the rest of the
weekend."
"Okay but can't you come up here for real sometime?"
"I'll ask. Can you come here?"
"I already asked. My mother's gotta talk to my father. When can I
call you and you'll answer the phone?"
"Just don't call after six weekdays, or weekends. I'll write you a
letter when you can call. And you gotta write me back."
That out of the way, I had to convince my mother to go along.
She didn't like the idea a bit. "Dear, if he ever found out, oh, it
would be terrible."
"How's he gonna find out? I'll stay with Freddy's family the whole
time. I won't go anywhere white people can see me. It would be the best
birthday present you could ever give me. Please."
Her final approval I took as a testament of her desire to be right
by me. Although she probably didn't believe I understood the extent of her
risk, I did. This was a direct defiance, something he would take very
seriously, seriously enough to leave her.
She thought having Georgie down for a weekend would be fine and
suggested Thanksgiving, two weeks after my birthday. Rather than wait for
letters to go back and forth, I called him. Once again, his father had to
be consulted. Georgie called back half an hour later. Mother, who I'd
alerted a call might be coming in from Georgie, waited with me in the
kitchen, answered the ring and handed it to me. Georgie would call the week
of the nineteenth with arrival information.
The next day, Freddy said, "That coin flip don't mean I can't ast
him."
"Yes it does. The rule is the subject, not who."
"You made that rule."
"But you agreed to it. I agreed to your rule that the winner can
keep talking for one minute."
"Shit, Maacum, you becomin' a damn lawyer."
Since I was supposedly going to Delaware on my birthday, mother set
up the family party for Thursday evening. When I told Francis about the
party that night, he assumed it was my birthday and celebrated by putting
his growing cock inside me down in the boiler room. He'd learned how to get
in there a couple of weeks before. Freddy put his in me up in the barn
after school and mother put some tuna casserole in me along with some cake
at the party attended by my grand parents, my aunt from the county and her
daughters, and a Jesuit priest friend of my grandfather who brought me a
book called `A Child's Guide To Philosophy'.
My mother picked me up after school on the ninth and dropped me off
with an overnight bag on the street above Freddy's settlement. Before
leaving the car, I held her and told her how much I loved her and that I
understood how much she loved me.
Aunt Martha knew I was coming because my grandfather called her at
her employer's home. It was an incredible weekend. Freddy and I, after a
night of intermittent lovemaking, spent most of Saturday at the stream
working on our new tree house using a saw Douglas' uncle loaned us and a
big fishing knife Brenda provided. That night, dead tired from hardly
sleeping the night before, we fell soundly asleep after making love just
once. Sunday morning, Aunt Martha, Freddy, his three sisters and I were
taken to church in the pickup of a relative Aunt Martha contacted to avoid
risking a bus ride during which I might be spotted.
Church was as great as I remembered it. The pastor himself welcomed
me back when I walked in. Once again, the music was inspiring, uplifting,
passionate, glorious. I fumbled along with a hymn book, singing softly so
as not to make too much of a spectacle of myself though, being the only
white face in the church, I already was.
Back at the house we had a birthday party for six of us adults and
kids whose birthdays fell within a few weeks of mine.
Freddy and I finished off the day trying to complete our new tree
house but not coming close. Part of the problem was the cold. Our fingers
couldn't work very fast making ropes out of vines that didn't have the
flexibility they would in the spring many months off. The sleeping bag and
one of the blankets was in the barn so we put off that part of our
relationship until the next time we would be together there, hopefully, the
next day.
At five, Aunt Martha had a pot of boiling water on the stove for
Freddy and me to take behind the curtain and mix with cold for a good
bath. We poured water over each other's heads and scrubbed. I washed Freddy
head to toe. He did my back and ears. My grandfather met me above the
settlement at five thirty. I was supposed to be coming back on a train that
arrived downtown at six.
My parents weren't at home when we arrived. Only my father's car
was missing. I worried they might have gone to the train station, a
horrible thought. We waited for nearly half an hour before they drove in. I
watched as my father got out of the car, looking for an indication of
trouble. He looked our way and walked to the door, unlocked it and went
inside.
Suitcase in hand, I ran to my mother. She was smiling. I knew
everything was okay. We walked in, arm in arm.
Francis seemed to be losing interest in my butt. When we started in
late September at the pool, he wanted it daily even though we rarely
accomplished that. Then, he'd only come to the house two Sundays in a row,
skipped one, come the next and no more since. Sex at school was down to
once or twice a week. He was still perfectly friendly but not nearly as
horny as those first incredible days. It seemed my ass had a very
satisfying effect on some. I sure enjoyed it.
Glenn Harrison let slip another possible reason. I knew Francis was
seeing a girl from the girl's school but then lots of the sixth graders
were dating, most actually. What caught my attention was Glenn's remark to
Francis about cum on the girl's dress. Afterward, he said he was joking but
Francis' uncomfortable expression at the time had me thinking differently.
The day he gave me a load of his cum as a birthday present, I asked
him about it.
"Nah, she's a virgin."
I knew then what a virgin was. "So's Virgina, supposedly, but I
know she's blown at least Bradley and I think Victor and maybe Pat."
"Well, just don't talk about it. You're not pissed, are you?"
"That's stupid. You're a boy. She's a girl. It's normal."
I was being facetious and poking fun at my not so normal desires.
Francis said, "You're a neat kid, Malcolm."
I took it as a compliment, and a partial goodbye.
Wednesday evening, the twenty-second of November, the day before
Thanksgiving nineteen fifty-one, my grandfather and I waited at the train
station. My parents had left earlier on a flight to Europe. No one else
could or wanted to take me so I ended up with my father's last option.
The station was jammed with holiday travelers. I'd made a sign with
`Georgie' written in large letters and had my grandfather hold it over his
head. There was no way Georgie and I could spot each other in that sea of
heavy coated adults. I climbed on the back of a bench against the wall and
watched the people coming up the stairs from the train he was supposed to
be on. The crowd thinned and dissipated with no Georgie in sight. Then a
conductor walked up the stairs with Georgie in hand. I shouted loud enough
for faces to turn from all over.
"Georgie! Georgie!"
He let go of the conductor's hand and ran to me. The conductor
chased him with his suitcase. Georgie remembered it a few feet from me and
turned around. The conductor laughed and handed it to him. We left the
station arms over each other's shoulders.
Georgie had all kinds of questions he felt intimidated asking in
the presence of my grandfather so discussed how it was warmer here than
where he'd just come from. The train, he allowed, was better than the one
he took to visit his father. I told him how I'd kept up my exercises and
was battling with Freddy for supremacy.
Freddy waited for us inside my grandfather's house.
"So you's the famous Georgie Maacum won't tell me nothin' about."
Georgie grinned at me and shook Freddy's hand. I carried Georgie's
suitcase up to our room on the third floor.
Georgie grabbed my hand and held it to his crotch. He was stiff as
a bedpost. Freddy laughed.
"You bad as Maacum."
"It's been almost three months. None of the kids where I live or in
school wanna do anything."
"You said you were doing it with a boy," I insisted.
"Yeh, jerking off, not what we do."
"Well, we gotta eat now."
"Then just suck on it. Please. I've been hard all the way on the
train."
"Go ahead, Maacum. Way he is, won't take but a minute."
Georgie was already undoing his pants. He pushed them down to his
knees and hopped backward onto the bed. His dick could have poked a hole
through slate.
I climbed up on the bed and between his legs, slipping my hands
under his warm buns. The moment I put my mouth on him, I knew it would be
quick. I squeezed his ass and revolved my head, sucking hard on his entire
shaft.
Freddy sat beside us and watched. I pulled a hand loose and touched
his crotch. He would want some service too.
Georgie came in less than a minute.
The moment Freddy saw Georgie's body stiffen, he pushed his pants
down. He wasn't wearing underwear.
My grandmother called us to dinner just as I started in on him.
"Shit! But you gotta do me soon's we eats."
Dinner was a banquet. Grandmother wasn't sure what Georgie liked so
fixed a little of a lot. Georgie liked it all. Freddy always ate anything
put in front of him. I was the choosey one. We emptied every bowl, pleasing
grandmother no end.
Freddy said his cock could wait until later. He never was one for
sex on a full stomach.
Georgie, sure I'd been active, wanted to hear about all the action
during the past three months of school.
Freddy and I told him about Francis and his tales of the movie
theater scene.
"Oh, shit, can we go over there?"
"I don't know where it is and I'm not gonna see Francis until
Monday in school."
"Shit. And they pay the kids in there?"
"That's what Francis says."
The conversation gradually drifted away from sex to our place by
the stream. A trip there wouldn't be possible until Friday. I wanted to
stay at Freddy's on Saturday night and go to his church on Sunday.
"I don't go to church, Malcolm. You know that."
"This isn't like church, well, it is, but the music and, you're
gonna love it."
We were all sitting on the bed, Freddy and Georgie cross legged. I
was lying flat with my chest on Freddy's lap. Freddy fiddled with my hair
as we conversed.
Georgie was ready to go to bed early but not out of
drowsiness. Freddy insisted we do our exercises. I suggested we do them
naked. Georgie stayed right with us on everything.
"We do this shit in school every day."
It was hard for me to concentrate with all those bare muscles
flexing. I fantasized Tommy Atkins and Martin O'Malley naked doing pull
ups, their beautiful pectorals flexing.
We lay on our backs panting and playing with hard ons then slipped
under the covers, the smell and slipperiness of the sweat making me very
horny. It was a little tight. The three of us were pressed against one
another. Georgie poked his pecker between my cheeks.
My grandmother knocked on the door. I looked around quickly to see
if any pajamas were in sight. Georgie's suitcase was open on the floor, his
pajamas on top.
"Wait a minute, we're changing," I called out and jumped out of
bed.
I threw Georgie his pajamas and grabbed Freddy's and mine out of
the dresser. "Just put on the tops," I whispered.
I pulled on both pieces and opened the door.
"That looks awfully small for the three of you. One could sleep in
the other room, if you'd like."
"We're okay," I told her.
She kissed each of our foreheads. "You were exercising. Shouldn't
you take a bath or shower?"
"We'll do it in the morning," I promised her.
She said good night and left us.
Georgie was pulling down my pajama bottoms as she closed the door.
"You wanna go first, Freddy?" he asked.
"Nah, you do it now. I'll do it after."
Georgie wanted to do it with me on my side and him sitting on my
thigh. Freddy had tried it that way once but didn't like it very much.
I lubed Georgie well and he slipped in. Freddy watched, rubbing his
hand up and down from his balls to his tummy, flipping his cock back and
forth as he went by. Georgie was still hot and pumped hard and fast. The
tip of his cock touched my sweet spot every few thrusts and his leg
massaged my cock and balls. Fortunately, Georgie was quick again,
preserving my orgasm for Freddy.
Georgie wanted to go to the bathroom. I had to remind him to put on
his pajama bottoms.
Freddy slid in behind me, wrapped his arms around my middle and
pushed inside. I took hold of his head and kissed his cheek by his mouth.
"That white boy really likes it, don' he?"
"I told you. It's not just Negroes."
"Mebbe, but almost all us niggas loves it. You know a mess a white
boys don' wanna."
"That's what they say. Remember Philip? He really wanted to but
that stupid priest told him he'd go to hell."
"If'n he's right, you an' me's in bad trouble when we dies."
We both giggled.
Georgie came back and slipped in on my side of the bed. For a
while, he watched the slow movement of the covers as Freddy fucked gently
but deeply.
Then, "I washed mine off. Suck it again?"
Freddy chuckled.
Georgie slid up but was cramped against the headboard.
"Turn aroun'," suggested Freddy, "an' push off them sheets."
Georgie pushed the blanket and sheet down with his feet then
switched directions, putting his erect cock in front of my mouth. His face
was inches away from Freddy's hand slowly massaging mine.
Georgie fucked my mouth, taking his time for a change. Then, he
lifted my top leg to watch what was happening behind me. His penis
stiffened. He slowed down.
Without changing his tempo. Freddy lengthened his stroke and pushed
in harder, exciting my anus and poking my prostate with every entry. I came
first, as usual of late. The constrictions of my anus carried Freddy to his
orgasm. Georgie noticed. It was enough to get him to his zenith.
Once over his orgasm, Georgie switched back around and lay facing
me, head on his hand. Freddy and I hadn't moved.
"You guys gonna do it again?"
"Later," Freddy told him.
"So you sleep like that?"
"Mmm hmm," I answered.
"Shit," he said softly. "You want the covers back up?"
We did.
Sometime in the middle of the night, our movement woke up Georgie.
"Shit, you doing it again? How many times?"
"Jus' three," answered Freddy. "Go on back ta sleep. We almos'
done."
We weren't actually. Freddy was lying on top of me, his hands under
my shoulders. It took a wonderfully long time that way.
Thanksgiving Day we played in the alley then had turkey dinner with
Aunt Martha and her two girls. After dropping off our guests, my
grandfather took us to the zoo. Georgie had been to the huge Bronx Zoo in
New York City so had to force his superlatives.
After dinner, we camped out in front of my grandfather's radio and
listened to sounds from around the world and a lot of teletype.
Bedtime followed the exact same script from the night before except
that Georgie slept through our middle of the night union. He was impressed
that we could sleep with Freddy on top of me.
Friday, carrying bagged lunches and money for drinks, we took the
streetcar to the stream. Freddy sat apart from us so no one who saw me
could say I was with a colored boy.
Georgie loved the woods and stream but especially the complete
privacy and quiet.
"When it's warm, we can be here all day naked and no one sees us,"
I told him.
"So you can fuck right out in the open and not worry about anybody
catching you."
"Shit, yeh. We done it thousands a times. If'n we had the sleepin'
bag heah, we could do it right now."
You can guess the rest. We sneaked up to the barn, brought the
sleeping bag and blanket back to the stream and fucked like bunnies.
We also got some more work done on the tree house and showed
Freddy's settlement to Georgie. Our guest from Delaware was apprehensive at
first and commented to me about the poverty he saw but was happy to come
back the next day.
The three of us slept in Freddy's bed Saturday night. That was
really tight. We almost fucked each other by default. A hard on had nowhere
else to go but the next person's crack. Georgie tried to sleep with his
back to Freddy but fell out of the bed. We just had to mold to each
other. Freddy molded right inside me. Georgie's right arm and leg lay over
the two of us. I wondered where his dick was while Freddy pumped into me. I
had this delightful vision of it poking in and out of Freddy's muscular
cheeks.
When I asked Georgie in the morning, he said, "It was going
somewhere. I came and had to pull away when it was ticklish."
On the way to church in the pickup, I wondered if that was a
message from Freddy that he was ready to try something entirely new. He had
to figure Georgie would tell me.
Georgie was handed a hymn book by the same woman who gave me
mine. He was awed but I doubt inspired. He tried to clap a few times but
was forever off beat. He didn't attempt singing.
Later when we were alone for a few minutes, he told me he was a
little frightened by the level of emotion he felt around him. "People like
that get excited about something, they can kill. I've read about it."
I laughed but he was serious.
He did enjoy the Sunday meal at Aunt Martha's.
We had one more fling in the sleeping bag and Freddy took it back
to the barn.
Georgie and I sat in the half done new tree house and dangled our
legs out over the stream. He seemed pensive, almost sad.
"I thought Harry and Michael had something great. You two, shit,
you guys. . ."
"What?" I asked.
"I mean, you two are always leaning across each other or holding
each other's arms, I mean, you're always touching each other. And the way
you can talk and say anything and nobody gets mad. And you guys have twice,
more, sex than Harry and Michael and I'm pretty sure Freddy's not, you
know, like you."
`Well, we like each other a lot."
"Unh uh. You two really love each other more than anybody I've ever
seen. You are really lucky. I wish I had something like what you guys
have."
"I wish my father understood that."
"Fuck him."
Freddy came bounding back and skipped gingerly across the rocks to
our side of the stream. It was time to go. My grandfather would be waiting
for us shortly at the path to the settlement.
We went back to grandfather's house and took a warm bath.
Freddy suggested to Georgie, "Last chance. Wanna go one mo' time?"
We did it doggie style. It took Georgie a lot longer than usual. I
knew what he needed, something we hadn't done during his visit but that he
loved. I hadn't been sure how he would feel about me sticking my tongue up
his ass in front of Freddy.
"Let's rinse and dry and do it on the bed. We've got time."
We ran naked down the hall and shut the door. I positioned Georgie
on the bed for a blow job then slipped my mouth off his cock and down to
his balls and perineum. Freddy lay beside me running his fingers between my
ass cheeks.
Georgie resisted me lifting his legs. I pushed my tongue down
between them and kept lifting. Gradually, he relaxed and let them go up and
my mouth go down. I got over his anus and began flicking my tongue
inside. Georgie lifted his legs with his hands then let go and pulled his
cheeks apart. I pushed in hard as I could. Little by little, my tongue
bored deeper, past his muscle to the soft flesh inside.
Freddy moved his leg across my body and pressed himself against me,
humping gently into my side. His mouth came against my ear and whispered,
"Tha's what you wun't tell me. You fucked him, din't ya'."
I let go with one hand and pushed it over Freddy's mouth.
Georgie said, "Shit."
I began fucking him with my tongue. His hole had opened far wider
than I remembered from camp.
Georgie repeated himself, "Shit," then slowly lowered his legs and
sat up. "It doesn't really matter with you guys, and I heard Freddy so he
knows. I gotta try it. Freddy, you wanna fuck me?"
Freddy smiled, looked at me for approval and took my shrug as a go
ahead. "How you wanna do it?"
Georgie got on his knees and buried his head in a pillow. Freddy
looked at me expectantly. It took a moment for me to realize he wanted a
lube job. I obliged.
Georgie's back door was already covered with saliva. Freddy waddled
up behind him, put his cock head at the opening and pushed slowly inside
until he was flush against Georgie's buns, his charcoal black against
Georgie's candle wax white. I thought about sucking on Georgie's rock hard
erection but it would have been very awkward and probably dramatically
shortened the pleasure I assumed he was experiencing.
Anyhow, it was the first time I'd ever seen Freddy fucking someone.
Freddy took hold of Georgie's hips and moved back and forth,
gracefully like a slow dance. I got on my knees behind him, pulled us
together and caressed his abdomen, watching over his shoulder at his cock
sliding effortlessly in and out of Georgie. My stiff penis poked between
his cheeks each time he withdrew. I held him tighter.
Freddy rammed in harder, pushing Georgie into the pillow with each
thrust. He reached under for Georgie's cock. I could feel he was
masturbating him from the muscle movement in his arm. He pushed in and held
it, pulled out to the tip and thrust back in fast. I kissed his
shoulder. He went in and out again.
Georgie's back arched and his thigh muscles flexed. Freddy's arm
relaxed.
Freddy pulled slowly out, his shiny black peter popping up as the
tip came free. Georgie rolled slowly over, one hand massaging his crotch.
After a couple of deep breaths, he commented, "People are so stupid
saying that is just for fags. Sorry, Malcolm. I'm not like that and, shit,
it felt great." He looked at me and volunteered, "Want me to jerk you off?"
"Mmm hmm."
I lay to his left. He leaned on his side and masturbated me to a
quick resolution.
While Freddy waited with my grandmother so we wouldn't be seen
together, my grandfather and I took Georgie to the station. The train
arrived on time at seven forty-two. My grandfather left him with a
conductor so he'd get off at the right place though I was sure Georgie
didn't need help to do that. Georgie and I hugged and he was gone. When we
got home, my grandfather called Georgie's mother so she'd know he was on
his way.
Freddy was already under the covers when I got back. I jumped on
top of him. "Horny?"
He had a sheepish grin on his face. "Don' you go sayin' nothin' but
I gotta try it too."
My dick had never come up faster than it did right then. Freddy
wanted me to screw him. I whipped back the covers. He was nude and hard as
a statue.
My shoe laces got tangled when I tried a quick pull to loose
them. Each shirt and pants button seemed to get stuck.
"Get like Georgie was," I told him. While I dripped spit into my
hand and over my cock, he rolled over and stuck his rear into the air. I
leaned over and ran my tongue across his pucker then poked at it.
"Quit playin' `roun', Maacum, and do it."
I crawled in on my knees, then, thinking of a better way, stood and
lowered myself on flexed knees until I was aligned. I pushed the head down
and poked my peter inside. Freddy's sphincter gripped it and sent a tingle
through my middle. I pushed forward and slid in, the heat drifting up my
shaft with his anus, warming me from cock head to gullet. Freddy reached
back and pulled me tighter to him. I feared I wasn't long enough to reach
his prostate so pulled back and rammed in hard, hoping I was at least
tickling it. I quickly realized what I was doing would take me to my orgasm
in seconds.
I remembered Jimmy's method and pushed in and moved up and down and
side to side. It was nearly as exciting as outright fucking. I wished I was
longer, could go in deeper. Over the next two years I knew I would be, and
so would Freddy, certainly before me.
Freddy said, his voice muffled by the pillow, "Keep doin' that."
I was getting close and reached under to masturbate him. He pushed
my hand away and motioned to wait with his hand. I had reached and passed
the point of no return. The first pulse seemed to start inside my ass hole
and raced up my perineum into my cock. I was suddenly weak and almost fell
backward. Freddy pulled loose in the middle of my orgasm and pushed me
down.
"Hurry up."
He dribbled spit into his hand and quickly got on top of me; wet
his cock, spread my cheeks with the fingers of one hand and aimed his cock
with the other. He pushed deep inside of me, fucked a few times and grabbed
my shoulders from behind as he came, shuddering with the force of his
orgasm.
"I shoulda thought a that befo' Georgie left."
"What?"
"Both sides at the same time."
I smiled. Freddy had forgotten some of his inhibitions.
Monday morning, Freddy and I went to school via public
transport. My mother picked up me and the others from our car pool after
school. My father was at the house. He had taken the day off to change the
screens to storm windows, something he normally had done by the first week
of October. He wanted me to take them down to the barn once he put them on
the ground. There were already quite a few leaning against hedges around
the house. By five thirty, we were done. He said, "Thanks." I couldn't
remember him saying that to me before. Was a change taking place? Maybe my
mother was pressuring him to be a father rather than a tyrant. I wasn't
very hopeful, certainly not trusting.
A aced the pre-Christmas exams, hundreds across the board. It
should be pointed out that five others did the same. No one failed. Sister
Mary What I Mean To Say, as Francis still called her, apparently was
concerned about her place in the books so gave us exams that most fourth
graders could have passed. Nine of us out of twenty-eight got First Honors
cards. I didn't mention that to my parents.
Mother told me that my father's vacation plans for the holidays had
to be put on hold due to a large contract his company had taken on in mid
December. I'd had hopes they'd go off leaving me with my
grandparents. Still, it didn't seem all that bad. My father would be at his
office far more than at home, allowing me ample opportunity to be with
Freddy even if just in the barn.
We had half a day at school the Friday before Christmas. I
convinced mother to let me walk home and arrive at three thirty. Janet, the
maid wouldn't know the difference. We had one of those pick a name out of
the hat gift givings that morning. I drew Paul Simpson's name and gave him
the wallet my mother had bought earlier in the week. Jimmy Smith gave me a
pen and mechanical pencil set. We weren't very creative gift givers.
Francis disappeared before I could wish him a Merry Christmas and
invite him over during the two week vacation. Realizing others were
sneaking away, I took off and was at Freddy's by eleven. He didn't get home
until three. I spent four hours helping make Christmas decorations out of
tin cans and colored paper. Freddy and I walked up to my property. He went
into the barn and I went in to drop off my things and change clothes. Janet
asked where I'd been.
"With the kids from my school, where else."
"I seen a bunch of `em headed home at eleven thirty when I went to
the Acme."
"So?"
She shook her head and went back to washing the stove.
When I walked out toward the pantry, she asked, "Where you going
now?"
"Outside, what's it to you?"
"You know."
"What do I know?"
"Don't get smart with me, boy."
I pulled my cap down over my ears, walked out and looked for
something I could do that looked like work. It was getting really cold. I
knew Freddy was inside the warm sleeping bag waiting for me.
Everything was fairly orderly and clean thanks to the work I'd done
over the past months. There was nothing to rake or sweep or pick up. I knew
Janet was watching so I had to do something quick. But there was nothing. I
went back inside and down to the basement, opened the door from the utility
room to the outside, raced around the front of the house, through the tall
hedge between our property and the next, and down toward the barn. There
was a section of relatively open hedge across from the kitchen window. If
Janet were at the sink, she could see me pass by. I crawled slowly,
watching but didn't see her. Once past the opening, I ran again and cut
back through the hedge behind the barn. Freddy was at the pig sty door.
"Wheah you been?"
"Janet's watching me."
We rushed up to the barn's second floor and crawled fully clothed
into the sleeping bag. Freddy and I discussed plans for the holidays now
that the situation had so dramatically changed from the anticipated freedom
I'd have had if my parents had gone away as usual.
"Why's that woman wanna watch you. Ain' none a her business."
"She's a snitch bitch."
Freddy had a suggestion, "Why don' you go ta Georgie's fo' a few
days, like las' time."
I promised to call him that evening. It was the only plan that gave
me any freedom at all. I'd asked Francis about supposedly going to his
house but he assured me his parents would never lie to protect me. There
wasn't anyone else.
Georgie was with his father and would be until the weekend after
Christmas. That left a glimmer of hope for New Year's Eve at Freddy's.
Every time I walked any where near Janet, she wanted to know where
I'd been and where I was going. I refused to answer until my father
informed me at dinner on Saturday that I was to answer her every question
as she was reporting directly to him. So much for the potential change of
attitude!
By Christmas Day, I was in a very sour mood. Sunday, my father
worked in his basement shop repairing two sections of dining room table
extension he planned to use Christmas Day. I had to sand and polish most of
the day. Monday, Christmas Eve, Janet was watching my every move. She left
at three, minutes before my father arrived. I hadn't seen Freddy since
Friday afternoon and that had been brief.
I received a bicycle as my main gift.
"So where am I supposed to ride this thing?" I asked.
"Anywhere you want on the property," replied my father with a
shitty smile.
I went to my room to listen to the radio.
My grandparents came with gifts including a forty-five rpm RCA
record player and half a dozen records. They came to my room.
"Did you see what he gave me?" I asked close to tears.
My grandfather sat on the bed and put his arm around me. "We really
tried to have you over for a few days but you've been with us quite a bit
recently so, well, we're not much good to you now."
I hugged them both and told them I loved them. We played the
records, Spike Jones `All I want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth',
Arthur Godfrey's `She's Too Fat', and others. I told them to tell my mother
my stomach hurt and that I'd eat later. She came up to try to convince me
to come down but I knew that being near my father the way I felt was
explosive.
My aunt brought me a Monopoly game. I played it with my cousins
until they had to leave.
Mother brought me cold turkey and dressing but warmed up the mashed
potatoes and succotash. I could only bring myself to eat half but I did
finish off the two pieces of pumpkin pie.
Anger was making my exercises easier and more stimulating.
Wednesday, Janet was back, even checking every so often to see if I
was in my room. Thursday, my mother took Janet on a shopping trip downtown
to help with some returns.
"There's lunch in the refrigerator, dear. We'll be back by three."
It was barely ten thirty. I had four and a half hours. The moment
she drove out of the driveway, I ran all the way to Freddy's house.
Warming up beside the wood burning stove, Freddy had an idea. "Why
don't chu make it like that white maid is a thief. Take sumthin' a yo'
fatha's and put it in her purse o sumthin'. Mebbe he'll put that bitch in
jail."
Once warm, we headed to the barn and entered with my duplicate
key. Upstairs, we stripped naked inside the sleeping bag, putting our
clothes over the outside to keep us warm inside. Freddy cuddled up behind
me with his hard on between my cheeks but not inside. We talked about each
other's Christmas and how lonely it had been without one another. We looked
at the future when I would no longer be under my father's control.
"Sometimes, I think I just wanna kill the son-of-a-bitch."
"Well, you jes' git that shit outta yo' head, Maacum, `cause
they´ll lock you up and we'll never see each'n other."
I reached back and pulled on his rear. "Fuck me, Freddy. I don't
know when we'll be able to do it again."
He wet himself and pushed in. I caressed his head and kissed his
cheek.
I was back in my room by three. Mother drove in twenty minutes
later. I waited until she came to my room to hug her and say thank you. No
use giving Janet any ideas.
I called Georgie Thursday night. His mother told me he was going to
spend New Year's Eve with a couple of school mates and to call on
Wednesday. That would be too late.
I stopped using the front stairs to avoid walking past the living
room and seeing that bicycle parked by the rear entry. I was sure it had
been given me as a symbol of my prisoner status, a victory prize for my
father's win over me. He probably believed I hadn't seen Freddy for months
if not longer. If he thought that bicycle made me feel defeated, under his
heel, he was wrong. It only stoked a fire of rebellion building inside me,
a fire that had to engulf us all.
His arrogance brought it to a head.
Friday at dinner, mother made one of my favorite foods, tuna
casserole. My father was telling mother, and indirectly me, of his
lucrative contract to design a new kind of tank tread for the army. I ate
as quickly as I could to escape his hated voice. There was silence for a
few moments.
He asked me, "When are you going to try out your new bike? It's not
that cold outside."
I pretended to be eating. He waited.
"Well, it's a darn good bike. You do know how to ride a bike?"
"Dear," interrupted mother, "let him finish eating."
He ignored her. "Malcolm, I'm talking to you. Now I bought you a
very nice bicycle. Don't you like it?"
"No."
He acted surprised. "Why not?"
"Where am I supposed to ride it?"
"There's plenty of places to ride it right here."
I felt the explosion coming. Why was he doing this? I had to get
away. "I better go to my room."
I got up and headed around the table toward the door.
He stood and blocked my way. "Sit down, boy."
"Leave me alone. I don't want any problems. I just want to go to my
room, sir."
He sat down. I started to pass.
"Probably should have given you a doll," he muttered.
"Fuck you," I muttered back.
He leapt up and smacked me hard on the back of the head, knocking
me across the front hall onto the floor by the fireplace. In front of me
was an iron poker in its stand. Completely under the control of the fire in
my gut, I grabbed it. Murder was my goal. I turned and ran at him, the
poker in both hands, out in front of me like a spear. For a moment, he
stood defiantly, daring me to attack him. It was a mistake. By the time he
realized the seriousness of my intent, I was only a couple of feet
away. Mother screamed, "Malcolm! No!"
My father turned back and away. The poker scraped across his chest,
ripping his shirt open, leaving a trail of blood.
My impetus carried me past him and into a chair. I tumbled over it,
losing the poker and taking the chair down with me. I jumped up and charged
him with the chair. He underestimated my strength and tried to stop me with
his hands. I slammed him into the sideboard behind him. He grunted in
pain. I turned to find the poker. He grabbed me from behind by the hair and
yanked back. Mother continued to scream. The poker was under my feet. I
jammed my elbow back where I thought his balls would be but only got his
thigh. He pushed me down on the floor, on top of the poker. I pulled it
from under me and tried to turn and swing it at him. His foot came down
hard on my back. I groaned but kept trying to turn over. The poker was
snatched out of my hand. I grabbed at his leg. He took my one hand then the
other from behind. I pulled the first one loose and kicked up at him,
connecting with something that made him back off just a little, enough for
me to roll free even though he still had my left hand. I jumped up and
snatched up a glass on the table and threw it at his face. He blocked it
with his hand but it hurt him. I got hold of a silver candle stick and hit
the arm that was holding my hand. He hit me open handed on the side of the
head. Everything went blank until I felt him kick me in the leg and heard
my mother screaming, "Stop it! Stop it!"
I felt her stepping over me as she pushed him back. I sat up but
fell over backwards. I wasn't sure where I was. I saw mother's dress and
her legs a few feet away and moving. Sounds became words.
"...not my son, your son. I sure as hell didn't father that."
Things jelled, came back. I pulled myself up. I hurt
everywhere. The poker, where was the poker. Fuck the poker. There were
knives in the kitchen. I stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest
one. I was going to finish him, be rid of the son-of-a-bitch once and for
all. Let them lock me up. Fuck them all!
I got to the middle of the dining room. Mother had my father in the
front hall. She was standing up to him, telling him that this was the
end. He'd gone too far.
I thought of Freddy. I needed Freddy. He'd know what to do. He'd
said not to kill the son-of-a-bitch. I'd never see Freddy again. I dropped
the knife. I wanted to go to Freddy's. My mother and father were shouting
at each other. The words "homosexual" and "nigger" registered. I had to get
away from this place, from him. Fear wasn't the driving force then. It was
escape, a prisoner wanting out of prison. I turned back toward the
kitchen. My back and leg and head hurt. I walked to the pantry and down the
stairs. There were coats on the hooks beside the door. It was cold
outside. I'd need a coat. I took one. It was too big. I dropped it down the
basement stairs and grabbed the second. It was mine. I opened the door and
walked out into the dark. The cold air hit me. I put on the coat and pulled
it tightly around me. I headed down the lawn. The back porch light came
on. Mother came running out the back door and down to me.
"Malcolm, where are you going? Are you okay? Come with me. We're
going to your grandfather's house."
"I'm going to Freddy's." I pulled loose and kept walking.
My father called from the back porch. "Do you see what I'm talking
about? He prefers that nigger to us. Let him go."
"Shut up, Henry!" shouted my mother and walked beside me.
"Malcolm, dear, you can go to Freddy's tomorrow. Right now, I want
to get you, us, to your grandfather's where you'll be safe. Please."
"Please, I wanna go to Freddy's now." I looked back toward the rear
porch where my father stood leaning out over the railing, his torn shirt
and bloody chest open to the cold air. I'd really hurt him. He was nothing
special, nothing to be feared.
Mother knelt in front of me. "Malcolm, dear, we're going to live
with your grandfather for a while. You can visit Freddy whenever you want
but we need to go there first. See, I have the car keys."
"I don't wanna go back inside."
"No, dear, we're going to get in the car and go. I'm not even going
to get my coat. We're not going back inside."
"Can we go get Freddy?"
She looked me in the eyes. "Yes, we can go get Freddy, but now I
have to get my coat."
"Okay."
We walked back up to the walk. As we went toward the side of the
house I stared defiantly at my father who looked like he could rip the
railing off the porch. At her car, she opened the door to the passenger
side, helped me in and closed the door. She rushed up on the front porch
and inside, returning in seconds putting on a coat as she came. My father
didn't appear as we backed out. Mother drove to the path to Freddy's
settlement. She brought a flashlight from the car. I was really starting to
hurt, especially my back. Aunt Martha wasn't there.
Freddy started to cry when he saw I was in pain. "He hurt you
again, oh, Maacum." He hugged me and led me to his bed where he lay me
down. He told Missy, his oldest little sister, to "go see who got some
ice".
Missy ran off. He lay beside me and hugged me. I wanted to hold him
too but lifting my arm hurt my back too much.
"Don' go back theah no mo'. Stay heah." Freddy looked at my mother
who was sitting in a chair by the door. "Let him stay heah. We can take
care a him. Oh, Maacum, what he do to you this time?"
Freddy's aunt came in with some ice and pushed Freddy out of the
way. "Wheah you hurtin', sugah? Somebody pull that light ovah heah so's I
can see."
Brenda, who had come in behind her, pulled the string attached to
the chain switch on the light hanging from the ceiling and swung it closer
to us. Freddy's aunt looked at my head. "Honey, I don't see nothin'. You
gotta tell me wheah you hurts."
"My back."
"Can you roll ovah? Wait, we gotta git this coat offa you first."
She lifted me up with Brenda and Freddy's help and took off the
coat. Raising my arms was very painful. She laid me back on my stomach and
lifted up my shirt. "Sweet Jesus! Look what he done to you heah. Gimme that
ice."
Mother came over and watched them rub ice over a pair of large
bruises. Freddy's aunt said, "I think you oughta git this chile to a
hospital ta see if anything's broke."
Mother told them she would and that afterward, we were going to
stay with my grandfather. No one thought I should ever go back with my
father.
I insisted Freddy go with me.
Freddy said, "Don' you worry none `bout that. I'm goin' with you.
Can't nobody stop me."